


The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo

by CPereira



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Crack, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPereira/pseuds/CPereira
Summary: Andy had not expected to wake up with a tattoo on her arm.





	1. The Dragon

Andrea Elizabeth Sachs had never given tattoos a serious thought. One time, her friend Lily had proposed a friendship tattoo. Given recent events, Andy was happy that she had not complied. She had been working for  _Runway_ for six months, and ever since, the two had grown drastically apart. She had also started to grow apart from Nate, her long-term boyfriend, but that was an entirely different subject. Wasn't it? After all, her mother had always advised her against tattooing a significant other's name, and so she had definitely not given  _that_ a thought.

However, and because there was always some sort of catch to Andy's life, or so she was learning, Andy from the night before had apparently done more than given it a thought.

Andrea Elizabeth Sachs had gotten a tattoo.

After catching a drink with Doug who of all remained mildly supportive, Andy had stayed at the bar, where who she recalled as a nice young woman had sat with her. Andy could not remember her name, but she remembered telling her about  _Runway_ (though she had at least had the decency to not mention the name of the magazine), about Miranda (who she had kindly referred to as the  _dragon_ _lady_ , for legal purposes, of course), about Nate, and about Lily. She had not bothered to change the name of the last two, because  _screw it_ , they did not deserve drunk Andy's consideration. Andy remembered the woman's pale hands as she called for another round of drinks, and another, and one more, because she had said something about Andy desperately needing it. And then Andy remembered talking about Miranda some more (and she might have slipped her name in once or twice then), about how careless she was of other people's feelings, about how infuriating her _impossible_ demands were. But she had also talked about her piercing ocean blue eyes, and her silky white hair, and... _Fuck_.

She did not recall leaving the bar, and she definitely did not recall getting a tattoo.

Andy stood in front of the mirror, trailing her fingers lightly over the colored drawing pierced in her skin. The area was reddened from the fresh work, but it hurt only slightly. Admiring it now, last night's Andy had chosen a very particular muse for the ink, no questions needed about so. However, Andy's mind was cluttered with questions regarding other...departments. How was she to explain this to Nate when he got back from his trip to Boston? How was she to explain this to Emily, or Nigel, or... _God_ , how was she to explain this to Miranda? Worst of all, what kind of tattoo artist worked on a woman drunk off her ass? She was so not going back to the same tattoo parlor when the tattoo needed retouching. Not even if she remembered where it was, thank you very much.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Andy questioned the creature through the reflection with a sigh. The blue eyed dragon on her arm simply stared back at her, unresponsive. 

 

* * *

 

"Aren't you feeling bloody  _hot_ , Andrea? Honestly, just when I thought you couldn't get more insane." Emily stood in front of Andy's desk with a hand on her hip, looking down at her.

After waking with her new and unexpected life companion, Andy had done her research. According to the web, it was best to leave the tattoo uncovered during the healing process, which was approximately a month. However, it was obvious that Andy could not risk walking around with the beast loose, and so she had decided to cover it in fashion. Nigel had taught her all about combining pieces, and she had applied her best knowledge, and put on not one, but two long-sleeved shirts. It had stung in the morning, when she had put on the second garment, but it was nothing that she could not take for the sake of her job. And her sanity alike. 

"I'm fine, Em, but thanks for your sweet, _sweet_ concern. I really appreciate it." Andy found herself snapping back at British woman, earning her ever so familiar eye roll.

There was a gleam of malicious pleasure in Emily's eyes when she replied, "Just you wait until Miranda sees you dressed like that." And with that, she trotted back to her desk.

Andy tried not to wince at the remark, and took a breath through her parted lips. Sure, it was not cold, but it was also not insanely warm. So what could possibly be wrong with her outfit? She was wearing designer clothes, for heaven's sake.

 

* * *

 

Only five minutes after Miranda had arrived to the office and listed the usual collection of never-ending tasks--she had apparently not taken a proper look at Andy, which she was extremely grateful for--Miranda's voice drawled from the transparent office.

"Andrea."

Andy swallowed hard, picked up the notebook and pen she always had at the ready, and rose out of her seat.

"Yes, Miranda?" Her brown eyes were hopeful as she entered the office, stopping by the door. 

Miranda's gaze was focused on a magazine, her lips tightened into a thin white line. She did not look up. "Is the air-conditioning not working properly?"

Andy did not seem to get the editor's remark. She curled her toes in her four-inch heels and stumbled over her words before managing a proper, "It is, Miranda."

The older woman flicked the page of the magazine with a single finger before humming in acknowledgement of her response, "Mm." Andy did not move. After a very short moment, Miranda's voice sounded again, cool and collected as ever, "And I assume it is too early to prepare for a long winter's nap?"

 _Shit_. So it _was_ about her clothes. Miranda _had_ taken a look, and Emily had been right, after all. The thought of the British woman's victory face was maddening on its own. Andy should have seen it coming.

Andy knew it wasn't a question, but she still took her courage in both hands and replied, "Yes, Miranda."

The editor looked up at last, swept her eyes up and down Andy. In her mind, Andy was wishing--actually, no, scratch that, Andy was  _pleading_ \-- to be dismissed. But Miranda did not seem to be done with her, and tilted her head just slightly, one side of her lips curling into something that was not quite a smile, but rather a  _dare_. Andy did not move, but frankly considered throwing herself out the editor's window, hoping for the worst damage of all. Miranda's eyes sparked  _something_ as they focused on the woman's upper body, "That's all."

Andy turned around and walked out of the office, feeling shaky, but she could still feel the editor's penetrating gaze on her. As expected, outside, Emily wore a malicious smile that very clearly read: 'I told you so', or alternatively, 'You are an idiot'.

Andrea Elizabeth Sachs cursed the _damn_ tattoo parlor and the _damn_ dragon as she fled to the bathroom to somehow adjust her situation.

Only she wasn't sure which dragon she was cursing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had never before written something for Mirandy, although I am an avid reader of their stories. It might be my favorite ship - I'm guilty.
> 
> I hope this was alright; there may be some unkind mistakes in here, as English is not my first language, and I am missing a beta reader. Still, I do have my fun with writing.
> 
> That being said, comments are always welcome, of course. I'm still unsure about continuing the story, which is why it is so short, and so I would love to hear your thoughts. Love and light, always.


	2. The Mantra

Andy did a fairly good job at chaining the beast for the rest of the day, or so she liked to think. After her little exchange with Miranda, Andy had removed one shirt and rolled up the sleeves of the second almost to her elbow. Though wasted Andy had not chosen the most fitting of places, at least she had chosen her upper arm, as opposed to her wrist, or any other place equally visible and mortifying. She had been called to Miranda's office twice since her stroll to the bathroom, and although Miranda did not bother to address her to her eyes, she did not seem as bothered. Then again, Miranda never _truly_ seemed bothered, it was just part of Andy's job to figure out somehow, beyond mind-reading abilities, when she was, and how to fix it immediately.

At seven thirty, Andy was reading through her notebook when a voice called: "Emily."

Miranda had not called her Emily for a whole month. After successfully delivering the Harry Potter manuscript for the twins, she had earned the privilege of being addressed by her name. But Emily had just taken a short bathroom break, and Andy was almost one hundred percent sure that Miranda was aware of her absence. Andy could imagine the smug look on Emily's face as she walked past the glass entrance of Miranda's office.

For once, Miranda's eyes began scanning her as soon as she brought her heels to a stop. "I assume you have switched your name to Emily at last."

Large brown eyes blinked at the remark, and Andy offered the dragon herself a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Miranda, but Emily--"

"Of course that no explanation could possibly interest me. Honestly, Andrea." Miranda snapped, and whatever justification Andrea was about to babble next died in her throat. Miranda sat back in her chair. "I was beginning to, mm, approve of your performance. And yet today, you decided to test my patience--" Andy merely blinked once more. Huh? "--dressed as if you are to endure a great snow storm, during _summer_." Andy could not stop her chin from dropping in a way that was most certainly unflattering. Miranda was not looking at her then, but instead focusing on the empty space next to her. Andy noticed a slight pink hue across the editor's cheeks, almost as if she were...flustered? What was going on? "Again, you prove yourself to be a disappointment. See that Emily brings the book tonight, once she decides to be mildly competent."

Andy did not move. Then, Miranda waved a hand dismissively before turning her chair around: "That's all." 

That night, as Andy pulled her bed sheets up to cover her body, mindful of the cream she had applied over the ink, she wondered if the web also provided lists on how to slay dragons. Then, she thought of Nigel. He had been her salvation once, and he was possibly the only person who would not poke fun at her. Andy pulled the sheets up and away from her body just slightly, and glanced down to where blue eyes were painted over her skin. Yeah, Nigel would mock her. But maybe he could still figure out a way to help her. Right?

* * *

 

"You are an idiot." Nigel said as he shared a moment with the beast. He was almost tempted to touch it, just so Andy would twitch.

"Gee, thanks Nige, I came to you to hear just that." Andy sighed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Nigel gave her look that was almost too amused, "Yes, and what did you come to me for? Are you expecting me to whip out laser eyes and remove it?" 

"I don't know!" Andy buried her face in her hands. "I brought a long-sleeve shirt to work yesterday--" Two, in fact, but that was not the point, "--and Miranda  _punished_ me. She didn't even let me deliver the book because of it! She, she, she called me a disappointment, Nigel! Because of the damn shirt!"

Nigel pursed his lips. "Mm." He tipped his pen towards the blue eyed creature on her arm. "And there is no way she could know about this little friend of yours?"

Uncovering her face, Andy flicked scared eyes in her friend's direction. "What? Nige, of course not. I told you, no one knows but you."

"Then it's odd indeed, dear Six. But then again, back when you dressed like a New York vagrant, you were also not delivering the book."

He had a point, Andy supposed, but she still sighed, "How am I gonna hide it?"

"Make-up won't do." Nigel narrowed his eyes. "And if Miranda was not pleased with your look, then--" Andy looked hopeful, "--you might just have to own little Miranda here."

Andy's eyes widened. "No, no, no! Nigel!" Then: "And her name is  _not_ Miranda."

Once again, Nigel looked amused. He shot her a look over his glasses, "But _she_ was drawn after her."

"Was not!" She snapped almost too quickly, in a childlike way, "And that's exactly what I'm gonna say. Maybe I love dragons, who knows? Exactly! No one knows. I just love dragons. That's it!" Nigel poked the tattoo with a strong finger. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Wake up, Six, no one's gonna buy that. Now, time's up, your other dragon is coming in--" He glanced at his watch. "Fifteen minutes. Which in Miranda time is--"

"Any minute now." Andy completed, already sliding into her coat. "I got it. Thanks, Nige."

On her way out, she came up with a mantra of her own:  _I love dragons, I love dragons, I love dragons._

* * *

 

Just as Andy gathered her courage and removed the expensive trench coat from her shoulders, she heard a gasp coming from the desk opposite to hers. She had expected for the woman to burst into uncontrollable laughter at the sight. However, instead, Andy watched as Emily Charlton, her worst (or best) frenemy, rushed out of her seat to force the coat out of Andy's hands. 

"Oh my God, you _are_ insane!" Emily accused her, handling the coat in a clumsy manner in attempt to cover Andy's whole upper body. "Put this back on _immediately_ , you bloody maniac!" Andy had not expected this at all.

Andy tried to take the wrap from the other assistant's hands, "Calm down, Em, it's fine." Nothing was fine, but Andy had to pretend.

Emily looked scandalized. "Fine?!" She released the piece at last, her eyes wide at the sight on Andy's arm. "This is not fine!" The beast stared right back at her, and Emily had to look away, up to the ceiling, "Oh my god, oh my god--"

Andy was also internally freaking out. "You really don't like it? I love dragons." She attempted a neutral tone.

"You love--" Emily looked down again, and squeaked, "Cover that up!" Andy did as she was told at the pure terror on Emily's face. "Miranda is going to kill you. And then she's going to kill me. For fuck's sake, Andy, what were you thinking?"

Andy let out a long sigh at last, and dropped her face into her palms. "I don't know!" The coat slipped off her shoulder, falling across the floor. A very desperate Andy looked up. "I can't keep the coat on, Em, it's too hot. And yesterday was too hot and I swear I tried to wear a half-sleeve today but--"

Emily looked like she wanted to punch her. "Oh my god, stop! And stop whining!"

Andy stared with impossibly sad doe eyes.

The British woman was apparently unaffected by such look, "You got yourself into this mess. Worst of all, you got  _me_ into this mess. Do you have any idea how impossible she will become once she sees this...thing?" Emily gestured vaguely towards Andy's arm. She was trying not to look. As Andy bent down to pick up the fallen garment, she wondered if Emily was feeling nauseous in addition to furious, because she surely looked like it. "I cannot believe you." The redhead took a breath, making a decision for both of them: "You are going to put your rag back on, and you are going to pretend you are ill for the rest of the week."

Andy gaped as she tried very ungracefully to put the coat back on. "And then--"

Emily did not want to hear it. "Then I do not care what you do. Perform a goddamn rain dance, cut your arm off, I don't care. But both you and I are perfectly aware that Miranda can't see it."

Then, a different, and very particular voice: "What is it that I can not see?"

And a much needed addition to Andy's mantra:  _I love dragons, I love dragons, I love dragons, and I'm fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! You requested for the story to be continued, so I decided to comply.
> 
> What do you have to say about this one? Love and light, always.


	3. The Realization

It didn't help that Emily's immediate reaction was to freeze in time and space. Andy watched as the redhead conveyed a thousand different emotions at once, though terror was the most prominent. Her own expression was between embarrassment, relief (of having slipped the jacket over her body in time) and pure dismay.

The snow-haired editor tapped her heels impatiently, "Must I repeat myself, Andrea? _Emily_?"

Andy pondered if she had lost her voice, because something in her throat seemed to block any and all sounds. Then, almost by magic, one of her usual lines came in a mutter: "No, Miranda." 

Adding to the first assistant's distress, Andy did not carry on. Emily adjusted the belt around her waist, preparing herself for the worst. "Andrea has decided to be ill, Miranda, I didn't want you to see her in this awful state--"

The mere quirk of Miranda's eyebrow was enough to cut Emily short. The editor turned her head to regard Andy with a contemplative gaze that made her squirm. "Is this true, Andrea?"

Andy gulped. "Yes, Miranda. I'm sorry, it's--"

"I assume we can attribute the excessive clothing to... _this_?" Miranda swept her eyes down Andy's body, and Andy hardly managed a shake of her head. For a very short moment, the three women were silent as Miranda's eyes roamed, and Andy dared herself to wonder if the editor was considering showing _sympathy_ for her fake sickness. "Well, you can do anything, can you not? I presume you can take care of this state of yours at once. You're hardly capable as you are." Sympathy? Yeah, right.

Then, both women watched in speechless horror as Miranda tossed her coat and bag over Emily's table-- not Andy's-- and stormed past them, into her office, as if nothing troubled her.

Andy was about to let out the long breath she had been holding when she felt an actual  _punch_ in her arm, just where her new companion resided. Andy brought a hand over her mouth to baffle a shriek. Emily had actually hit her! And her dragon! What the actual--

Emily brought her face close to Andy's, "You are a bloody idiot, Sachs." Her voice cracked with bitterness.

Andy wanted to weep, but she did no such thing. Instead, she took in a breath, "I know." Emily was clearly not expecting Andy to agree, and Andy watched as the Brit's jaw dropped at the absurdity of her response, "Nigel said that before."

With a roll of her eyes, Emily marched back to her desk, barely resisting the urge to stump her feet. As Andy settled down behind her own workspace, she could hear Emily mutter furious hexes under her breath while handling Miranda's personal belongings. That's when it hit her. The editor, who had seemed unperturbed about Andy's pretend virus, had thrown her  _stuff_ over Emily's desk, not hers. That was, Andy then supposed, Miranda's way of showing care. Perhaps she did have some sympathy in her, after all.

* * *

The rest of day ran smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it ever did under Miranda's command, of course. Andy learned that Miranda's care only went as far as to offer her coat to her first assistant rather than her second: Andy still spent the day jogging around New York City with a rush to complete her usual tasks. But she did not mind. Fetching Starbucks was slowly but inevitably becoming her favorite. At least, of all, it seemed to bring Miranda some sort of pleasure. Sometimes, she could swear the corner of the woman's lips twitched after her first sip. One time, it even seemed like she had let out a content purr as the liquid warmed her throat. But that was probably part of Andy's imagination.

"No, sir, I'm afraid that Miranda is not available for you at the moment." It was almost nine o'clock, and the caller had still dared. Andy kept herself from finishing him with the truth: 'Nor will she ever be. Do you truthfully expect her to waste her time with you?'. Instead, she made a promise to leave a note before ending the call.

Unlike the previous day, Andy's excessive clothing, as Miranda herself had put it, did not seem to get in the way of her task of delivering the book. Nor did her supposed illness. Although Emily had feared for her own life that morning, she had happily--and annoyingly--skipped into Miranda's office with a smirk in the afternoon, confident that Miranda would require her to deliver the book for the second night in a row. Why the redhead enjoyed having her evening stripped away, Andy did not know, but she had known from the look of defeat on Emily's face as she exited the dragon's dungeons that Miranda had not asked for her, but for Andy instead.

But from where Andy stood, she could not afford to judge Emily for it, either. In fact, Andy was thankful for waiting around for the book that night. Her relationship with Nate was hanging by a thread, and even though he was away, she would feel obligated to call him. That and the last time she had attempted to be somewhat productive with her evening, apart from trying to fall back in love with her boyfriend, had resulted in a lifelong commitment that she was not quite over yet. Nor would she be, really, at least until winter rolled around. Then no one would question the long-sleeves, nor the jackets, and definitely not the creature on her arm who unmistakably resembled her older, married, and very much _impossible_ boss.

Yes, there was no use in running from the meaning, or the muse behind the inked image on her skin. Andy was not sure about  _loving_ dragons, but she surely had been thinking  _way_ too much about them lately. About their pleasure in coffee, and about other pleasures that she could surely offer them if--

Andy glanced down at the mock up version of _Runway,_  her cheeks bright pink. Miranda did not like to be kept waiting.

* * *

Delivering the book was a quiet affair. The twins were away at their father's, and as usual, Miranda did not allow herself to be seen. Sometimes Andy thought of going up the stairs to catch a glimpse of her boss, but then she remembered the punishment she had gotten the one time she did, and quickly tiptoed her way out. There was no way she was going to owe Christian Thompson yet another favor.

Andy was about to jump in bed when her phone chirped across the room.

"Hey, baby." The voice on the other end was definitely too cheerful for tired Andy. Still, she forced a smile, as if the person on the other end was watching.

"Nate!" Andy faked some enthusiasm for him. It was not difficult, as she was getting used to doing so in bed. 

"Are you okay? You haven't called for like two days."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I've just been a little sick. I was gonna call you, actually, but I didn't know if you were up."

"Sick? I bet it's from all the work that woman's giving you. I mean, jeez, Andy, she doesn't let you catch a break."

"Work, and Miranda," Were they not essentially the same thing? "have nothing to do with it. It's just a, uh, cold."

"A cold? You do realize it's summer?"

"Yeah, apparently my body doesn't. Anyway, how's Boston?"

Nate proceeded to tell her all about his gastronomic findings in the city, as well as about all the 'wonderful opportunities' growing in the market. At some point, Andy realized that he had been drinking, or that he was still drinking, because most of his sentences came as babbles, slurred.

"I love you, babe. Can't wait to go back." He said at some point, shortly after Andy had confessed to sleepiness.

And just when Andy was beginning to believe she was deserving of some acting award for her great performance in pretending to care, she could not bring herself to say the words back.

"Yeah, of course. Goodnight."

 _I love dragons, I love dragons, I love dragons, but I do not love Nathan Cooper_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short but fun chapter to write. I wanted to give you a little something before all hell breaks loose.
> 
> What do you think is to happen next? Love and light as usual.


	4. The Lie

Andy stumbled into the office almost at eight o'clock the following morning and almost dropped her Starbucks when she realized a pair of eyes were watching her from Miranda's office. Miranda's eyes. Without looking away, the editor ran one hand through perfectly-styled hair, and Andy gulped. Miranda was never this early, and Andy did not know how to proceed-- other than very, very carefully, of course. She adjusted her posture and pulled at the hem of yet another long-sleeve shirt.

"Good morning, Miranda." The young assistant put on a smile, the brightest she could manage at such early hour.

Miranda did not seem to want to acknowledge Andy's greeting. She pursed her lips and lifted a regal hand, silently instructing--well, _commanding_ \-- her assistant to approach the desk.

Andy blinked, perplexed, and complied on unsteady legs. "Uh, is everything alright, Miranda?" 

The editor actually rolled her eyes, and held out the same hand as before, "My coffee."

Andy did not have the courage to explain that the cup she was holding was actually  _not_  Miranda's coffee. On normal days, Miranda would only arrive at nine. And because she liked the drink scalding hot, Andy did not pick it up any earlier than eight fifty five. With a nod, she set the cup tentatively on Miranda's hands. Her fingers brushed against Miranda's, and her own tingled.

Andy had to watch, then, utterly horrified, as Miranda brought the cup to her lips to taste the drink. But Andy knew that once Miranda realized that was not her usual order--yes, the no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot and three drip coffees with room for milk-- she would be _furious_. She could not let this happen. Andy had to think fast. 

"Miranda!" The editor quirked a brow in question, and brought the cup down to her chest. Think, Andy, think! "I just wanted to apologize, uh, for being sick. I know you need your assistants at their best and--"

Miranda regarded the girl with disbelief. "I said I expected you to take care of it. I will not repeat myself."

Andy wanted to smack herself. "Uh, yes, of course, Miranda." Miranda began to guide the cup back to her mouth, and Andy felt a spasm of pure panic seize her. "Ah-- Miranda, but you see, it's just that, um-- it might be worse than I thought."

At that, Miranda's eyes went wide. She set the cup over the table with a force Andy had yet to witness. " _What_?"

First, Andy had lied about being ill. Now, she was telling her boss that she actually had, what, a serious condition? She was losing it, and it was all Emily's fault. Actually, no, it was the tattoo artist's fault. What? No, it was that woman's fault, the one at the bar, for getting her impossibly drunk. Oh, God, no! It was Doug's fault. He had dragged her out of her apartment!

"I'm sorry, Miranda, I don't know yet, I mean, for sure. But, um, it's the symptoms, I, well, um-- it's nothing contagious, I'm, like, a hundred percent sure, but--"

Andy was sure she was about to pass out when the editor cleared her throat, not allowing her to prolong her senseless babbling. "Well." Her boss tilted her head slightly to one side, contemplating her, "Shall I send you away?" The horror on Andy's face must have given away that she was about to black out, "Home, Andrea." Miranda clarified. But Andy remained shock still, her face paling even further. The editor rolled her eyes, "Shall I send you home _for the day_ , Andrea?"

Oh. Andy's shoulders relaxed a little. Then they tensed up again almost immediately. Miranda was sending her home? But then Andy wouldn't be able to fetch her Starbucks and-- "Miranda, I think it's good for me to work. To, to be distracted."  _So I won't overthink the fact that I got a tattoo of you._  

Miranda leaned forward slowly, her palms resting over the edge of the desk, "You think?"

"Um--" Andy could feel tears forming at the corner of her eyes then, and shook her head. "I would really like to stay, Miranda. It's not contagious, and I'm going to the doctor after work and I'll  _totally_ be more than okay tomorrow. I'll be... _great_. So not sick."

Miranda narrowed her eyes. Andy noticed that her features had softened since the beginning of their exchange. Miranda almost looked...  _concerned_ , over Andy's well being. And she sounded concerned, too, her iconic almost-whisper tone sung out in a different pace. Bordering on  _gentle_ , even.

"Well. Yes. This is  _cold_ now." Miranda waved her hand carelessly at the cup, as if the gesture alone would remove it from her view. "Have Emily fetch me another once she decides that it's convenient to show to work." Andy nodded furiously, realizing that Miranda's voice remained as soft as before. And that she was allowing her to stay. "And Andrea," Andy's breath caught, Miranda's eyes piercing through her own, "See that you are, indeed...great, tomorrow."

Andy's chin dropped a little.

"That's all."

_I love dragons, I love dragons, I love dragons, and Miranda Priestly...um, cares? Almost. Maybe. I mean, it did seem like she--_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know! What a short update after such a long wait. But I had to find my way back to the story. And this scene is very much needed-- which is why I ultimately decided to post it on its own. Hence, hell is not yet loose in this chapter as I originally predicted, but as for chapter five... well. 
> 
> What do you think of this short piece? Love and light.


End file.
